Ten Minute Fics: Supernatural
by Caught In A Simple Game
Summary: A collection of one-shot reponses to prompts. All written in ten minutes. Rated M for some adult themes and language. All Genres. Taking requests/new prompts via PM for all characters!
1. Plans for Your Pants (Dean)

**Prompt: Where are My Pants?**

 **Title: Plans for Your Pants**

" _Dean Winchester!"_

I yelled from the laundry room of the bunker. After spending the better part of the last month on the road, hunting the freaks and geeks of the world, I was happy to finally be back in a place I could call home. The main source of my happiness? Take a damn hot shower and running three weeks' worth of disgusting, guts-and-gore-covered clothes through the laundry.

The moment I stepped into the bunker, Dean had insisted that I kick back and have some shots, eat a burrito, take it easy.

"As soon as I'm clean."

I'm not a germaphobe. _Fuck_. Yes. Yes, yes I am. I'm obsessive-compulsive and I _hate_ germs. Hunting isn't the best line of work to be in with a condition like that, but what can I say? I make it work, no medication involved. Once I figured out that chewing gum can ease anxiety, I bought stock in Trident. Takes the edge off, it really does.

So here I was now, freshly showered, in clean undergarments and a clean shirt. I'd been waiting the last few minutes for a load of jeans and sweats to dry. When I went into the laundry room, however, the whole load of bottoms was gone. Disappeared. Bermuda triangulated.

The accused in The Case of My Missing Pants opened the door to the laundry room, took a step inside and sipped whiskey from a glass, his other hand hidden behind his back.

"What is it, dearest?"

The mischievous look on his face gave him away. I planted my hands on his chest – okay, more like his abdomen. I'm short. Leave me alone. – and shoved hard. "Where the _hell_ are my pants?!"

Dean threw his head back and chuckled. "So, so, so, very worked up. You see, this is why Sam and I don't go case to case anymore. Better to come back here, refresh, re-charge your batteries."

He presented his other hand; another glass of whiskey, for me. I reached for it, but he took it away. "I swear to God, if you don't give me the whiskey and my pants …"

"You're not going to do anything," Dean scoffed as though I were a petulant child. "I'll make you a deal. Come into the kitchen with me, drink this whiskey, and I'll give you your pants."

Not having much energy left in me to argue, I accepted the whiskey and marched my pretty little ass to the kitchen. I hoisted myself up on the counter, downed the whiskey in three gulps, and demanded my pants.

"Fuck," Dean mumbled. "That didn't work out like I wanted it to."

"How did you want it to work out?"

He came closer, in between my legs, and softly ran his hands up my thighs. "Well, I'll admit, it wasn't an idea I had until you pranced out of your room in those lacy boyshorts. I've told you before, they make me crazy."

I smirked. I had the upper-hand now. "If you ever want to see these lacy boyshorts again, you'll give. Me. My. Fucking. Pants."

Dean kissed my lips. "Oh, I have other plans for you, your pants, and those boyshorts. Most of it involves my bedroom floor."

 **A/N: Thanks for reading the first of my little one-shots! I'm always looking for more prompts, with all SPN characters, so feel free to PM me if you have a request!**


	2. His Bed, His Heart, His Life (Dean)

**Prompt: You're Acting Like A Child**

 **Title: His Bed, His Heart, His Life**

I shoved clothes in my bag with fervor I didn't know I possessed. The events of the last few hours had motivated me, though, and I was about to complete a departure I had never seen coming.

"Come on, hear me out," Dean begged. "I can explain everything."

I shook my head. "Not a chance. You already lied to me once – and not a little, white lie, I'll remind you. I'll never believe anything you say now, so don't bother."

He growled and ran his hands through his hair. Normally that sort of thing would have driven me crazy in a really tingly sort of way that would have ended with the two of us naked in a bed, tangled together anywhere from minutes to hours. I'd lost sleep next to Dean, and now I was certain I'd be losing sleep without him.

I zipped my bag and slammed out of the shitty motel room, shoving the packed bag onto the passenger side of my car. He followed me to the parking lot, not bothering to close the door behind him. As I slammed my car door shut, I turned to look at him, mindful of the tears that were brimming in my eyes. _I swear to God, if you cry in front of him …_ I would never forgive myself.

"It was one little thing, on the road. I thought we had an agreement," Dean defended himself. More words I didn't want to hear.

I rolled my eyes. "Shows how much you pay attention and care. Yes, this was supposed to be open, but after you left last time, we said no one else until we saw each other again. Fuck, that was three weeks ago. You couldn't even keep it zipped up that long?"

"You're acting like a child," he growled out, grabbing my upper arm to close the space between us. "I thought when we made this agreement that you were going to be mature enough to handle it. We're both in this business, we both know keeping up any kind of relationship is damn near impossible. This was supposed to be the easiest way."

"Yeah, and you couldn't even do it the easy way!"

"You think I like this?" he yelled at me, shoving me away with only a shred of the force he probably could have used. "You think I like seeing you _maybe_ once a month? Knowing that there may be other guys when you're on the road, or when we're apart? This is the life we both chose, and we have to live with it. You don't get to run away because I made one little mistake."

"That's where you're wrong," I scoffed. "I do get to run away. This life was my choice. This relationship or whatever was my choice. And leaving now, well, Dean, that's my choice, too. Feel free to go back to the reputation that usually preceded you – one you apparently never left."

I got in my car then, knowing if I looked him in the eye, I'd be too tempted to forgive him. Before I could change my mind about leaving Dean Winchester behind for good, I put the car in reverse and drove away from the motel.

When I was far away enough to know I could still see him, but not close enough to see the look on his face, I checked my rearview mirror. He was still there, in the same place, mentally adding me to the list of women that had come and gone from his bed, his heart, his life.


	3. Birthday Girl (Dean)

**Prompt: That bar stool isn't going to hold you, what are you doing?**

 **Title: Birthday Girl**

My beer was warm.

This was a problem.

The dumb waitress down the bar wasn't doing anything to fix my situation, either. She was too busy racking up tips down the counter with the group of college guys ogling her assets. Yeah, when I say "racking" up tips, the double entendre is intended.

I'd lost count of how many shots I'd had, but I know I was on my third beer. Celebrating the last birthday of my twenties, I had decided it was going to be a big one, and my friends had made sure that happened. The small karaoke bar was packed full of people I knew and people I didn't know, but it seemed we were all celebrating together.

Well, except for the big-bosomed bartender too far away to refill my beer. No matter. I knew how the taps worked, I would just fix it myself.

The wobbly stool next to me seemed like a good idea, despite have a fourth leg that somehow wasn't level with the other three, and a very slippery seat. A sober me would have been concerned with the substances make the seat slippery, but drunk me did not give a single, solitary flying rat's ass.

I had just reached the tap and was on my way to filling the glass when Big Boobs finally realized I existed.

"That bar stool isn't going to hold you! What are you doing?!" she demanded, rushing down the counter to grab the glass from my hand.

At which point, I fell off the stool. Fuck all, this bitch was right. The stool wasn't going to hold me. I could almost hear my head cracking against the linoleum floor when strong hands reached out to prop me back up against the bar.

"Relax, Roxanne," the handsome stranger told the bartender, handing over a ten dollar bill. "I haven't bought the birthday girl a drink yet."

Roxanne took the bill, set two beer bottles in front of him, and huffed off. The man handed me a longneck and took a long swig of his. I frowned.

"You knew it's my birthday?"

He snorted. "Everyone in this bar knows it's your birthday. Your friends made sure of that. I'm Dean."

"I'm … drunk," I giggled. Correcting myself, I gave him my actual name and shook his hand. "Thanks for the beer."

"Not a problem. I don't want to keep you from your friends, but maybe you can sit and drink that one with me."

Saying no to his green eyes and boy-next-door charm was just not an ability I had in that point in time, although I'm pretty sure I could have been swayed by this man completely sober.


	4. Have to Have It (Dean)

**Prompt: We Can Fix This**

 **Title: Have to Have It**

I had to have it. The only thing that would save my brother from his stupid deal with a demon was literally inches from my grasp, but Dean refused to let me take it from him.

"You don't know what this thing will do to you!" he argued.

"I'm well aware," I growled back. "I've seen what it will do, but it doesn't have to destroy you. You could give all up that up, Dean. Don't you want that? To go back to Lisa and Ben, let Sam find Amelia, let all of this just rest. It's time."

Dean's head rolled back and he stared at the ceiling momentarily, until realization hit. "It isn't time. You know it isn't time. You just want to convince me to pass on. Bringing Lisa and Ben into it? Low blow. Really low blow."

I sank to the one of the uncomfortable beds in this shitty hotel room. I had asked him to come here because I knew that if I met him at the bunker, he would have Sam and Castiel to sway me that there was another way.

"There's always another way for you," I sighed. "Always. You go to hell, Cas pulls you out. Lisa starts to freak out, you get her memory erased. You and Sam beat the apocalypse. But there isn't another way out for my brother. He made the deal with Abaddon. I know you think this is your job to defeat her, but maybe you need to let someone else take the reins on this one."

He shook his head, a defeated look I had never seen covering his face. "I can't. Not if that person is you."

I frowned. For all the visions I was capable of, this was something I had never seen coming. "Why not me?"

Dean swallowed hard and fiddled with a crumpled hamburger wrapper on the table. "Because you deserve better. You deserve better than a hunter's life, better than me. But I want you, just the same." He chuckled, but not because he was amused. "It's not even that I want you in my bed – I want all of you. It's been a long time since I thought that about a woman."

I knew what he was saying, and I knew I was wrong to take advantage of it. I knew that I felt the same way. Dean and I, though, we were drawn together because we were the same. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Sam, and there was nothing I wouldn't do for my little brother.

I walked over and took his hand. "You'll do anything for me?"

"Anything."

And that was all it took. One second for him to think, _I'd even give you The Mark, if it really made you happy_ , and it was burning into my skin.

"No!" Dean yelled. "Come on, give me your hand again. We can fix this. I can fix this."

Taking a deep breath, I kissed him. Hard. "I don't want you to fix this one, Dean. I'm sorry."

 **A/N: Last one I have for now! Prompts/requests - send them, please! I'll write for any SPN character.**


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